


Though Far Away

by SpiritusRex



Category: The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild
Genre: Amnesia, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Major Character Death Mentioned, Post-Calamity, Selectively Mute Link, some violence, will update tags if they need updating
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-13
Updated: 2018-02-24
Packaged: 2019-03-04 02:46:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,127
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13354866
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpiritusRex/pseuds/SpiritusRex
Summary: “It has been said, 'time heals all wounds.' I do not agree. The wounds remain. In time, the mind, protecting its sanity, covers them with scar tissue and the pain lessens. But it is never gone.” - Rose Fitzgerald Kennedy---Link still dies and is placed in the Shrine of Resurrection, but the Champions and Zelda are able to defeat Ganon without him.Then, Link wakes up 100 years later in a world that has no need for him, and hasn't for a very long time.





	1. Chapter 1

Waking up is hard.

Link gasps his first breath in, and feels every bit of the fluid that drains from his ears and drips off of his face. It’s too thick to be water, but he doesn’t think on that for too long before he’s opening his eyes and squinting up at the bright blue light that hovers above him.

The light is from some kind of device that is built down from the ceiling, hovering over the pool Link lays in. Glowing tubes and ancient machinery are tangled together above him and the mess only looks more menacing the wider and thicker the device gets.

And that _blue light_ \- staring at it is beginning to give Link a headache.

Sitting up is a slow process, as the world takes its time orienting itself around him. The small pool is a struggle to get out of, and Link slips and stumbles when pulling his legs over the edge to set them on the floor.

As he looks around, he realizes slowly that he has no idea where he is, or how he got there. It's a beautiful room, with curling designs that stretch across every wall and pillar, but there's nothing in it. Nothing but him, the blue light, and the steady dripping sound of the fluid.

And - oh.

There are chairs.

Five chairs, old but comfortable looking, sit around the pool he’d been laying in. Curiously, Link steps closer to the smallest of them, the one that looks best suited to someone of his size, and reaches out a hand to wipe the dust off of the top of it. Thick clumps come away stuck to his hand, while the rest of the dust falls to the floor. He glances at the other chairs, brows furrowed, and sees similar layers of dust on them as well.

Whoever had once sat in these chairs hadn’t been there for a long, _long_ time.

Link swallows thickly, shakes the dust off his hand, and steps around the chairs.

At the end of the room, behind the chairs and through an archway, the soft orange glow of a pedestal draws him over. It’s positioned next to a large and very solid-looking door, but Link can’t for the life of him figure out how to get the door to open. He feels around the pedestal and presses his hand to the glowing lights on its top, growing more desperate in his motions the longer nothing works. He refuses to be trapped in this room forever, with no food, water, or clothing, and nothing but empty, ghost-like chairs to keep him company.

Desperation giving way to panic, Link leaves the pedestal and heads for the door directly, only for his bare toes to slam into something _hard_ that trips him into a painful tumble over it and onto his knees.

Sitting there on the floor is a chest without a lock, waiting in front of the door just for him.

Scrambling, Link doesn’t even bother to stand up before he reaches over the chest and opens it awkwardly from behind. He lets out a shaky sigh of relief when he sees what’s inside; clothes. At least now, if he’s trapped here in this frightening room, he won’t be pretty much naked anymore.

He inches on his knees around to the front of the chest to pull the clothes out. There’s a warm looking green doublet, tan pants, a belt, and thick brown boots. When he puts them on, the chill of the dark and dusty room around him dulls immediately, and he rubs his hands against the thick material of the green doublet gratefully.

There’s more in the chest beside the clothes though. Beneath them, having been hidden by the pants, a small folded piece of aged paper rests on top of a rectangular block.

Link reaches for these items and pulls them out a bit more carefully. The paper looks delicate and important, but the rectangular block is solid, and this he picks up without fear and examines first.

A raised design in the shape of an eye commands one side, and a handle, carved with similar curved shapes as the walls of the room, is at the top. The other side is clean; nothing but smooth black stone that Link can almost see his reflection in if only there was more light in the room besides the blue coming from the contraption in the ceiling.

He squints for a moment at his hazy reflection, trying to make out any details about himself that he can. He’s blond and his hair is long... His ears are pointed… His eyes may be blue? After another moment of squinting, Link puts the slate down, just a bit unsatisfied, and then gives his attention to the piece of paper.

Hopefully _this_ can give him answers.

The words inside are beautifully written in a loopy, almost liquid looking font, but the ink is a long-dried brown, and the edges of the paper are thin from time. Link tries to ignore these things, as he had ignored the thick dust on the chairs, and forces himself to read what the letter says.

_Link,_

_I’m sorry that I can’t be there when you wake. I have important responsibilities at my home to attend to, and there was no telling how much longer you’d sleep._

_As per Zelda’s instructions, I’ve sealed the door and left here with you the Sheikah Slate, which Zelda left with me, which should activate when you hold it up to the pedestal and open the door. It has a map on it as well, though I don’t know if it’s a very good one, that should help you find your way to the Zora Domain._

_Please come as soon as you wake up. I have much to give you and tell you. If you get lost at all, ask anyone on the road for directions. Most of the people you will come across in this land are kind and will not turn you away._

_Love,_

_Mipha_

Link’s gut twists with the sharp realization that before this he hadn’t even known his own _name._ At least now he knows it. At least now he knows his name is Link.

But his grip on the paper tightens and his hands begin to tremble as doubt comes to nibble at his mind. Maybe this letter isn’t actually for him, even though it seems like it is, and Link had been the name of one of the people who had sat in the chairs. If Link is someone else, hopefully he won’t mind if his name is borrowed for awhile, as well as the letter and slate.

If only Link could _remember_ …

He doesn’t remember anyone named Mipha or anyone named Zelda either, but, evidently, they had known him, and they had waited for him. Mipha had left him this letter, slate, and clothes to help him, so she _must_ have cared about him.

But he doesn’t remember her.

He doesn’t remember _anything._

The heavy darkness in his mind that he’d been ignoring since waking up is something that Link is now all too uncomfortably aware of. It feels _wrong_ , like there’s thick mud in his mind blocking him from himself and his past, from Mipha and Zelda, from anyone else who he may have been close to.

Right now, he has nothing. He has only the mysterious Sheikah Slate and a letter from a friend he cannot recall.

So really, the only thing he can do is to follow the instructions left for him and go to the Zora Domain.

Link takes a moment to himself, crouched there on the floor in front of the empty chest, to calm his mind and his breathing. He carefully refolds the letter and places it in the front pocket of his pants, then stands, determined, with the Sheikah Slate held tightly in his hands.

The pedestal that had refused to yield to him before is no match for him now, as he walks over to it and resolutely places the slate flat side down on its glowing surface. Both the slate and the pedestal ping in time with each other when he puts it down, and then the dull orange glow of the ancient technology in the pedestal shifts to the same bright blue that Link had woken up to. The slate too has lit up, with the same eye symbol that’s on its back now glowing in the center of its black screen.

 _“Authenticating.”_ says an odd voice that comes from seemingly nowhere, startling Link. He looks around frantically for the source before the voice speaks again, coming from the pedestal, “ _Sheikah Slate confirmed.”_

The door takes that as its cue, and another eye symbol that Link hadn’t noticed, indented in a circle on the center of the door, glows blue for only a moment as the door is activated. There’s a rumble of rock against rock and inner mechanisms as the large stone pieces begin to slide apart. They shift in lengthy chunks, all receding up into the ceiling and letting the light of the outside world flood into the darkness of the ancient room.

Link wastes no time in running for the opening, desperate for fresh air and to be away from the glowing blue and orange lights that had surrounded him since he had woken up.

He doesn’t even spare a backward glance to the five empty chairs that had waited there and witnessed his awakening as he’s swallowed by the sunlight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me, terrorizing my friends: "do u want to hear abt this sad botw au ive thought of"  
> and then i decided to write the sad au
> 
> ive no idea how long this fic will be! but whatever the length i hope you enjoy it <3 Ive got a lot of it outlined already and theres some Super Sad Stuff planned for down the line. unfortunately updates will be random, as it all depends on when i get time+motivation to write, but ill do my best. Also, the title might be in the works and might change. I struggled with it a lot and im not sure it fits. 
> 
> A big thank you to my great friend Cake (ikira here on ao3, ikiracake on tumblr) who is betaing this fic out of the goodness of her heart, and a special thanks to my friend hannah (lokiodinson on tumblr) who bounced this idea around with me in our messages when i first thought it up.
> 
> (and for those who r curious or who want to talk abt this fic or botw with me, im ghoststrawberries on tumblr!)
> 
> dont forget to leave a comment please! ;'0 i crave that validation


	2. Chapter 2

The hallway that leads from the room where Link had awoken is long, but eventually Link emerges from it through an opening in the mountainside and enters into the world beyond - and the world is  _ beautiful.  _

He has to wade through a small and abundant field of flowers to get to a grassy outlook that he can see a few yards away, but takes his time so as to not hurt them. Even though his heart is bursting with the urge to run, there’s something, some  _ feeling _ , poking at the back of Link’s mind telling him that the flowers are very important. They’re delicate little things, colored blue and white, with five wide open curling petals, and Link treads lightly and pushes their reaching stalks out of his way with the utmost care. 

Once he’s past the flowers and standing on the grassy edge of the small cliff… there, the view is breathtaking. 

Link stands there for what feels like forever just drinking in the way the warm sunlight touches the fields and mountains before him. There are people and carts he can see traveling on roads far below, and they look tiny compared to the powerful nature all around them. Even further in the distance, standing tall and splendid with flags waving freely in the wind, is an incredible castle that cuts the sky and casts its silhouette upon the lively town around it.  

Overcome with awe, and strangely, longing, Link stares at that far away castle. 

But he can’t waste all his time staring. Eventually Link manages to pull his eyes away from the castle so he can begin his journey down the mountain. 

The path isn’t extremely steep. It’s grassy and full of life, and slopes gently down to open up into an area of hills and thriving trees. Link follows it down, keeping a worried grip on the Sheikah Slate and glancing down to it every now and then, even though he knows it’s securely fastened to the hooks on his belt. He just wants to make sure that if he trips it won’t come off and go sliding down the hill and get lost. After all, it’s the only thing he has to help him get to Mipha.

When Link looks up from the slate and back down into the forest, he notices something that he hadn’t noticed before. 

Smoke.

There’s a line of smoke, thick and dark against the light blue of the sky behind it, trailing up from somewhere amongst the trees. It’s a sure sign that there’s a fire - and probably a person - somewhere at the end of it. Link picks up the pace down the slope and towards the smoke, a newfound goal in mind, remembering what Mipha’s letter had said about the people of the land being kind enough to help him, and he moves so quickly that he completely passes by without a glance at the large and ruined temple just beyond his path. 

It is only when he gets closer and can see the flickering flames and hunched over form of a person through the trees that Link remembers to be cautious again. No matter what Mipha may say, there will always be evil out in the world.

He falls, instinctively and naturally, into a defensive stance, and then he slows his approach to a careful and quiet walk forward rather than the quick run he had been using before. The person still doesn’t move or give any indication that they had heard Link approaching, as they seem entirely focused upon the cooking pot before them and the food swirling around in it. 

“H-hello?” Link calls. The first word he’s said since waking. It cracks and breaks in the center, much to Link’s displeasure, rough from years of disuse, and feels awkward coming from his mouth. 

However broken it is though, the word does its job of getting the person’s attention. They turn in Link’s direction, head tilted curiously, and beneath the hood Link finds himself looking into the face of a gentle-looking old woman. 

“Oh! I didn’t know there was anyone else here on this plateau. Not many come up here anymore.” Wrinkles and lines carved from years of smiling curve at the edges of the woman’s green eyes as she grins and beckons Link over to the fire, “You seem quite young. On a pilgrimage, are you?” 

“I don’t-” He coughs, trying to get the rough and painful rasp out of his voice, and comes to stand by the warmth of the woman’s cooking, “I don’t think so. P-Pilgrimage to where?” Talking feels uncomfortable and wrong. He hopes the old woman will talk without expecting him to respond.

She points out through the trees, back in the direction Link came from, “The old Temple of Time rests just over there, beyond the trees and a small hill. Lots of young Hylians tend to travel here to see it and the old Goddess statue within.” 

Link looks, but he can’t see the temple through the leaves and thick wooden trunks that he’d walked through. “Oh.” He says.

The old woman laughs at the simple response, and sits back on the fallen tree beneath her. She braces her hands on her knees and smiles up at Link again. “I’m guessing you really aren’t here to see the temple then.” Then she leans forward, a mischievous curl to her lips, and whispers as if telling a secret, “Between you and me, the Goddess and I have a complicated relationship, so I’m not here for the temple either.” 

Link finds himself grinning a bit, despite himself. This woman does indeed seem like a kind soul, and there’s just something about her - her laugh, her eyes - that seems distantly familiar… it’s almost comforting. Link’s previous caution falls from his shoulders as he dares to sit down on the dirt by her fire. 

Whatever she’s cooking smells  _ delicious _ . 

His stomach rumbles at that moment, betraying him, and Link leans away from the fire and blushes embarrassedly as the woman laughs again. 

“Ah, so that’s why you came over! To steal my food, huh?” She jokes, and Link frantically waves his hands and shakes his head. “Calm down, calm down. I’m just kidding. You seem like a good kid who wouldn’t steal food from an old woman like me.” 

Link settles down in relief, but remains stiff, still hungry. The woman’s expression softens as she looks at him, and she glances once to her food, clearly contemplating something, before she looks back to him, “How about this, you are probably looking to get off of this plateau, right?” 

Confused at the apparent change in subject, Link furrows his brow but still nods in response. He had looked at the map on the Sheikah Slate on his way down the mountain, and had seen that the Zora Domain was actually quite a long journey away from the small plateau he had started on.

With a hum, the woman echoes his nod in understanding, “I see, well, actually, there’s no safe way off of this plateau. It’s an unclimbable drop all the way around.” 

A burst of panic flushes through him, and Link fights the urge to stand and run to the edge of the plateau to see if the woman is telling the truth. He fists his hands in the dirt and works to keep himself calm and focused. The old woman wouldn’t be telling him this without a reason. 

“But I have a way off. It’s something called a paraglider, a one of a kind thing. You open it above your head when you jump and it will carry you safely to the ground.” She reaches into her pack that had been leaning against the log by her feet, and pulls out a thick bundle of sticks and worn red fabric. “But really, these old bones of mine aren’t very good for paragliding anymore.” She unfolds the paraglider, showing Link the art on it’s top. He stares at it, wide eyed, and looks from it to the woman’s face then back to the paraglider again. 

A way off the plateau, right in front of him… It’s almost too good to be true.

Then the old woman is folding the paraglider back up again and putting it back down on top of her pack. She chuckles at Link’s desperate expression when he sees her put the paraglider out of his reach and then looks up at her, “Well, I’m not just going to give it to you!” She tucks a bit of her white hair behind her ear and back into her hood so it won’t fall out as she leans forward and stirs her food while it continues to cook. When she’s finished, she leaves the wooden spoon resting in the pot, brushes her hands off, and pats the paraglider once, “This belonged to a dear old friend of mine… You’ll have to earn it if you want it.”

Without hesitation, Link hops to his feet, nodding. 

“Really? You don’t even know what I’ll have you do yet.” The woman smiles fondly.

Link nods even more firmly and assuredly. If this is truly the only way off the plateau, he’ll do anything.  

“Alright then, if you’re really sure. The one thing you need to do to earn this paraglider is…” 

Link braces himself, steels his mind for the challenge. He’s ready for  _ anything. _

“Share this meal with me.” 

Link blinks, taken aback by the simple request, “That’s it?” He says in disbelief before he can stop himself. 

The woman raises an eyebrow, “Do you want me to make it something harder? Now sit back down, it’s creamy meat soup, I’m sure you’ll like it.” 

Slowly, Link sits back down, and watches as the woman produces two small wooden bowls from her pack and fills them with soup. There’s only a single fork, which is given to Link, and to express his gratitude he eats every piece of meat and drinks every last drop of the soup from the bowl with relish, contentedly humming and licking his lips when he’s done. 

When he sets down the bowl and then looks back up at the old woman, she has that fond expression on her face again, though this time she also looks very, very sad. 

“You remind me of my old friend.” She says, reaching out, just close enough to run a wrinkled hand through Link’s messy hair. She combs out a few tangles with her fingers and, after hesitating just a bit, he leans forward and allows her to. It’s the least he can do. “He was such a glutton, I used to joke that food was his one true love, aside from the open fields of Hyrule of course.” 

The woman falls into silence, and Link has a feeling that something bad happened to this woman’s friend. Something terrible. It would be rude to ask about it though, so he stays quiet, and lets her take comfort from him. 

After awhile, the moment passes, and the woman sighs and retracts her hand from Link’s head. Link almost misses the warm weight and the way her fingers so gently carded through his hair. That had been the first touch from another person that he’d experienced since waking, and although he’d been scared since he woke, he hadn’t felt any fear at all.

“Well, time to uphold my end of the bargain. You’ve certainly earned this paraglider.” The old woman says as she stands up, grabbing her pack and the paraglider, then motions for Link to follow her. He gives a wary glance to the fire before they leave the clearing, worried about it continuing to burn in their absence, but then decides to trust the old woman’s judgement and leave it. 

“So, where exactly are you going to go when you leave here?” The old woman asks, as Link catches up to her and walks alongside her through the trees. Her cloak and hood hide a great deal of her form, turning her into what looks like a shadowy silhouette with no distinct features, that the sunlight that streams through the leaves above them can barely touch.

“Zora Domain.” Link replies, testing a softer tone of voice. It still feels wrong.  

“Ah, I see,” The old woman says, then, they emerge from the forest. Link can see the edge of the plateau before them; it’s a high stone wall with chunks missing and holes scattered along it stretching as far as he can see both to the left and right. “That’s quite a long way, but I’m sure you’ll be able to accomplish it.” There’s such genuine faith in her voice as she assures him, and Link wonders what he did in the small amount of time that they’ve known each other to inspire such faith. All he did was stumble onto her campsite, shaking like a leaf, and eat her food. 

The old woman stops walking a good distance away from a large empty space where part of the wall has fallen away. It’s left a perfect opening for someone to jump through and be free of the plateau. Link glances at her and she nods him along, and so he takes a few cautious steps towards the edge on his own, leans over the edge a bit, and peers out. 

It really  _ is _ a frighteningly steep, clean drop from the plateau to the world beyond. There’s no safe way that Link can see to climb down. One wrong move and you’d plummet, fatally, to the ground below. 

Link walks backwards to the old woman’s side, a safe distance away from the terrifying drop. The panic is bubbling up inside him again, so he clenches his fists at his sides to try and force it away.

A soft hand on one of his fists causes Link to whip his head towards the old woman. She smiles at him, reassuringly, and in her other hand holds the paraglider out to him. 

“With this, the drop will be nothing. You’ll make it down safely, don’t worry.” 

Link takes a steadying breath, then reaches out for the paraglider. His hand pauses over it, and the old woman presses it up into his grip and then puts her other hand over top of his. 

“Go on, you have someone to get to, right?” She smiles, and then she lets go. 

Link almost tries to give her the paraglider back, but then he draws it close to himself. “I…” He wants to say thank you, to say  _ anything, _ but the woman shakes her head and looks at him like she knows exactly how he’s feeling.

She then turns and points, out through the hole in the wall, into the distant forests and mountains, “Head northeast, follow the roads and water into the mountains until the rocks turn blue, that’s how you’ll know you’re in the Zora Domain.” 

Link looks while committing the advice to memory, and he steps away from the old woman just a bit, back towards the hole in the wall. He can’t see any blue rocks from here, but he can see the mountains. He can see where he needs to go. 

He really does want to say thank you, and because he can’t say thank you verbally, there’s at least something else Link can do. 

The paraglider is dropped to the ground as Link turns and impulsively gives the old woman a hug. 

She stiffens at first, and Link almost pulls back, suddenly afraid that he’s done something completely un-polite and unwanted. But slowly, the woman’s old arms reach around him and thin hands press against his back as she returns the hug. She doesn’t say anything, just leans against him, her body made small and light by time wearing away at her bones contrasting to Link’s solid form. 

Holding his arms around her fills Link with an odd warmth, and it almost feels familiar. 

When the hug finally breaks, the old woman has that same fond-sad smile on her face that she’d smiled before. She pats her hands on Link’s shoulders, and, to Link’s rising horror, looks very close to tears. 

Causing an old woman to cry feels like an extreme crime, and so Link lifts his hands to maybe try and comfort her again. She stops him, laughing a watery laugh, by moving her hands from his shoulders to his wrists. 

“Don’t worry about an old woman like me.” She says, lowering Link’s hands, “It’s thanks enough knowing that I was able to help you. Just worry about yourself and the journey ahead of you.”

There’s something more in the old woman’s words. Something Link feels like he’s missing. But he doesn’t pursue it, doesn’t even know how to begin to. He lets his hands fall away, and lets the old woman wave him goodbye as he picks up the paraglider and walks to the edge of the plateau.

Just as Link braces himself to jump, the old woman speaks to him one final time, as a farewell.

“Tell Mipha I say ‘ _ Thank you. _ ’” She says softly, “And please, be careful Link.” 

They are the last words from the old woman that Link hears, and they strike a memory that had been buried deep in his mind. It’s a faded, burnt at the edges memory, of a young woman with long blond hair and kind green eyes telling him to be careful while he stands before her with a sword strapped to his back. 

Link spins around desperately, chasing the memory and the old woman’s voice, only to find that the old woman is already gone, vanished into thin air. There is no trace of her left behind, and even the trail of smoke from her fire has faded and disappeared. 

But the paraglider remains real and heavy in Link’s hands, so the old woman must have been real too. 

He looks around, scanning the area, confused beyond belief. Confusion, at least, is a feeling that Link would _ expect _ from having the woman he’d been talking with suddenly and mysteriously disappear. But alongside the confusion there’s a surprising amount of grief welling up inside him as well. It’s pouring into his chest and saturating his heart, growing stronger the more he thinks back on all that the woman had said to him, including the very last thing.

That is how Link realizes that he had never told her his name. Yet she had known it, and had spoken it with so much warmth and emotion. 

The mystery is too much for Link. Piled on top of all the other mysteries of his life since he’d woken up, it's all too overwhelming. He knows he can distract himself from all of this if he just keeps moving forward, towards the only solid name and destination he knows of. And now, with the paraglider, he has the means with which to do so.

So Link, giving up on finding the old woman, turns back around, holds onto the paraglider tightly, and jumps.

Unbeknownst to him, the old woman hasn’t truly disappeared. Her shabby hood and formless cloak have fallen away, revealing the ornate robes and braided hair of Hyrule royalty, and she watches from atop the fallen Temple of Time as Link jumps. Her breath is held as he pulls the paraglider open and then safely floats down through the air using muscle memory alone to use the tool. Only then, when Link falls out of sight behind the wall of the plateau and there is no doubt that he’s going to land without dying, does the old Queen Zelda breathe again. 

“I’m so glad that I got to see you wake up, Link.” Zelda says softly to her knight who cannot hear her, her voice carrying a slight ethereal echo, as the voices of all ghosts do, “It was the only thing I wanted, and I was worried that I wouldn’t last…” She sighs, the weight of one hundred lost years held upon her shoulders, “I guess I didn’t really though, did I? I’m so sorry, Link. I’m so sorry…”

The wind blows strongly, pulling on Zelda’s hair and dress. The hundreds of silent princess flowers upon the mountain where the Shrine of Resurrection rests bend with the wind as well. 

“I hope one day you can find it in your heart to forgive me for leaving you behind in this new world.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> would u look at that! its a rare quick update!
> 
> im doing my best to write link as if he's on the verge of an anxiety attack at any moment bc lbr if i woke up without any memories at all id be on the edge of an anxiety attack at any moment too. poor boy really needs some answers to his many many questions
> 
> im going back to school tomorrow for the new semester so the next update may not be for awhile, so i hope this chapter is enough to hold everyone over. thanks again to ikira for betaing it! 
> 
> and hey, a big thank you to everyone who left a comment on the first chapter! comments really make my day. Im glad you all are prepared for the sadness and I hope i can deliver >:) - dont forget to drop a comment on this chapter too! <3


	3. Chapter 3

Link would have liked to be able to say that he landed with grace and skill.

But when he finally makes it a safe distance from the ground, he struggles with pulling the paraglider closed, and ends up falling the final few feet and landing painfully on his face.

He picks himself up off the ground and dusts himself off, rubbing the dirt from his face and huffing when his knees and cheek throb slightly, a sign of bruises to come. Not even a full minute into his journey and he’s already clumsily gotten himself banged up.

The paraglider has fallen a few feet away, dropped when Link hit the ground, and now he checks it over to make sure it hasn’t been broken. Thankfully, it’s fine, still able to be opened and closed smoothly, the fabric without holes or tears.

Link has made it down from the plateau safely, just as the old woman said he would.

Now that he has the paraglider in his hands, Link can look at the design on it more closely. It looks like some kind of crest, with a pinched crescent in the center and wing-like shapes on either side. Fitting, for something meant to help flightless beings to fly.

Carefully, Link rolls the paraglider back up and, using a loose strap that he feels like might be meant for just this purpose, slings it over his back.

He hadn’t landed on the road, but he can see it, and he can also see the river that stretches towards the horizon just below the mountains he needs to head towards. Just to be sure though… Link pulls the Sheikah Slate from his hip, and the screen lights up with a melodic series of pings.

On the screen, overlaying the subtle lines of blue runes in the background that are powering the slate, there is a line of seven boxes and all except two of them are empty. One of the two holds a light blue circular shape that looks like it could be a compass, and the other holds a green rectangle with a circle at its center that Link cannot identify.

He tilts it around, manipulating it with his hands, and squints at it, before decidedly pressing a finger down on the square with the blue compass in it.

Another series of melodic pings, and the screen unexpectedly zooms out. Link nearly drops the slate in shock, and grapples with it for a moment as he gets his grip on it again and stares in awe at the map that lights up before him.

Despite knowing barely anything else, Link somehow is confident that what he’s looking at is a map of the land. There’s really nothing else it could be. But it really _isn’t_ the best; it’s empty of all that a map usually is, with only glowing outlines that surround the regions and bodies of water, and the vague lines of what might be paths.

There’s an arrow shape, set close to a line that trails off and diverges at a fork in the road, that Link hopes is meant to represent him. Aside from that arrow, there’s only one other distinct marker. It’s a little yellow dot, glowing brightly, off in the middle of the right side of the map. It’s past an area of wetland and small islands, buried deep in a ring of mountain that one must follow a river to arrive at.

Curiously, Link taps at the yellow dot with his finger. He’d been successful earlier touching on the blue compass symbol to open the map, and hopes for another success of some sort.

In response to his touch, two words appear above the yellow dot. Link reads them quickly before they fade: _Zora Domain._

And the little arrow that represents him is pointing right towards that yellow dot.

Testingly, Link takes a few steps forward toward the path before him. The little arrow doesn’t really move with the slight change, but Link is sure that if he takes on more distance he’ll see the arrow follow his position.

He nods at the slate, finally feeling like he knows what to do. Following a map is something simple that requires nearly no thought. He just needs to make sure he goes down the right paths, and if he doesn’t, he can always check his position and backtrack if necessary.

Feeling confident, Link mentally notes the direction he first needs to go, clips the slate back onto his belt, and sets off.

It’s nearly nightfall before he stops walking, and Link is proud of himself even as his feet throb angrily when he finally sits down. He finds a short rocky ledge to rest under, where a previous traveler had made a temporary camp and then left the burned and charcoaled wooden heart of their fire behind.

He doesn’t know how to start a new fire, but having shelter is good enough. The night is warm, and Link feels more comfortable than he expected to, laying on his back in the grass beneath the stars. It feels _right._

Before he falls asleep, Link holds the Sheikah Slate up above him so he can look at the map. The slate’s unnatural screen is bright, nearly blinding in the darkness, and it eclipses the stars and details of the sky behind it. The little arrow on the map has moved a considerable distance towards the yellow dot of the Zora Domain. He’s passed over a river once and still has another river and the wetlands to cross through, but he’s on his way.

Link grins. Progress.

* * *

Waking up is not as comfortable an experience as falling to sleep had been.

Link’s back aches, and he sits up with a groan, feeling like a one-hundred year old man. His stomach rumbles and growls like a beast, and he longs for the meaty meal he’d shared with the old woman on the plateau as he gathers orange mushrooms and apples from the nature around him. The mushrooms look dubious, but Link feels like they’re... _probably_ not poisonous, and he nibbles at the edges of their caps in between taking large bites from the apples. It’s not exactly a flavorful, full meal, but it’s filling, and will give him the energy he needs until he gets to the Zora Domain and can eat real food again.

He confirms his direction with the slate before heading off down the road again, stopping every few hours to gather mushrooms, even finding berries that he can snack on while he goes. The roads are quiet, thankfully, with few travelers even at the height of the day. Back in the direction he came from, Link can see small farms and groups of houses on the field across the river that are likely bustling with life and activity, and ahead of him, he can see the bridges and small islands of the wetlands he needs to get through to reach the path that leads through the mountains into the Zora Domain.

But to the side of him...

Just ahead, there are tiny stone statues by the side of the road that catch Link’s eye. Small shrines of carved creatures that have had their features worn down by time. It’s impressive that they look so old, and yet are still sitting at the roadside to help travelers on their journeys. The people of Hyrule must respect the spirits and guardians of their religion quite a great deal.

Link pauses before the statues, crouches, tilts his head to peer at their odd faces and even tries, in a moment of childish impulse, to mimic their stretched-lip expression on his own face.

One of the statues, the taller one, has an apple resting as an offering in the bowl before it. There are small blue flowers nestled into the side of the bowl as well. But the other statue, the smaller one… its bowl is empty and dry, bereft of anything to show it is revered and loved.

It seems wrong to Link that one statue should have an apple and the other not.

He goes and finds an apple, plump and gleaming red like a ruby, on a nearby tree in a grove not far off the path. It rolls easily into the stone basin when Link drops it there, and he smiles at the new symmetry, satisfied that the statue is no longer left out and wanting.

Light and leaves abruptly burst in front of his face, and Link staggers back and falls backwards at the appearance of a tiny little _thing_ on top of the short stone statue. It’s no bigger than Link’s own head, wearing a strange mask in the shape of a large leaf with cut black holes like small moons. Tiny little points of limbs poke out from its plant-like body, and it dances on these little feet and waves those little arms as if it is lighter than air.

“Yahaha!” The tiny thing chitters, its voice high and magical, with an undertone of wooden wind chimes in its movements as it dances, “You found me!”

Link stares at it, eyes wide. It _must_ be a spirit; something of plants or the forest.

The spirit stops its dancing when it doesn’t get a reaction from him, and hops from the top of the statue to the top of Link’s bent right knee. It leans towards him, humming, before it makes a small gasping sound and jolts upright as if it recognizes him, “OOH!” Then it begins to dance again. It goes from Link’s knee to the ground and hops in circles all around him. Link follows with his head turning so his eyes can stay fixed on the tiny spirit, but doesn’t otherwise move, “Good morning! Good morning!” It chirps and sings happily.

Link takes his eyes off the spirit for a moment to look to the sky. The sun is already nearly set.

But that doesn’t stop the spirit from continuing to sing “Good morning!” while Link sits. He really has no idea what kind of protocol there may be for interacting with spirits, but he watches the spirit for a moment more and then says, “Good morning,” in return, just to be polite, his hands moving in gentle signs at the same time as his words.

Wait.

Link pauses, freezing his hands mid-motion, and stares down at them, suddenly disoriented. His hands feel disconnected from his mind, and for a moment look completely foreign to him.

Why… had he done that?

The memory, when it hits, surprises Link. But it’s not a terrified kind of surprise. It’s like he’s dipping into a river; slowly at first, before getting caught up in the lazily flowing current. The memory pulls on Link’s focus, though it is far gentler and kinder than the flash of memory of the golden haired girl that he’d experienced before. It’s still faded and burnt at the edges, but in this one Link can see his hands moving before him, shifting in stages to form symbols out of motions and gestures. There are many of the tiny forest spirits all around him, just like the one that dances around him in the present, and they’re gathered like children around a storyteller as Link sits nestled in tall swaying grass. The spirits hang on his folded legs and giggle at whatever his hands are saying.

When he comes back to himself from the memory, Link feels like his hands are his own again. The signing had only needed a catalyst, but now he remembers how to do it as naturally as he’d remembered how to read.

The little spirit giggles and presses something - a small, golden seed - into Link’s hands, and he smiles and is able to sign _‘Thank you.’_

* * *

The bridges of the wetlands are more populated than the other roads Link had been traveling on.

People - Hylians, by the look of their pointed ears - walk the bridges. Some look like travelers, with large packs on their backs, meeting up with friends on the small islands, while others look like their sole job is to watch the bridges with a critical eye. One man stares at the bridge before him so intensely, it looks as if he fears it will rear up and attack him itself.

Link does his best to just walk through calmly, though his heart pounds at the thought of any of the people approaching him to talk. He doesn’t know why being around so many people at once has him on edge. They look like good people, and Mipha’s letter in his pocket almost burns reminding him of her words, but none of them give off the warm familiarity that the old woman had.

Hopefully, once he’s past the wetlands, the path will be quiet and lonely again.

Most people cast a curious glance his way as he walks past them, but none try to call out to him or stop him. Link even manages to cross most of the bridges without obstruction until he gets to the last one.

The man standing at the edge of the bridge refuses to silently step aside when Link tries to pass. He’s tall, but not broad, so at least he’s not a complete and total wall. There’s a sword in a scabbard at his hip that he has a hand on, calling attention to it as if it gives him power to do as he pleases.

Link feels like, if he really wanted to, he could probably knock this man flat on his back to get past him.

“You heading into these mountains?” The man asks gruffly, looking Link up and down, sizing him up, evaluating him and finding him lacking, “Or around them?”

Link straightens his back, trying to make himself seem taller. He points in the direction of the mountains.

The man raises an eyebrow.

Link keeps his gaze and arm steady.

The eyebrow stays up, “Lots of monsters up that way. You sure you’re prepared?” He very obviously jostles his own sword and looks pointedly to Link’s back, where only the paraglider rests.

Oh Link _knows_ he isn’t prepared. The fact that there are monsters in the mountain is news to him, and he has no weapons nor shield to help him get through safely. He’ll cross his fingers and pray to those tiny spirits of the forest for luck that he doesn’t run into any on his way through, and hopefully, Goddess willing, that will be enough.

To the man before him Link nods, trying to seem as confident as he can even though his mind is conjuring images of frightful pig beasts and lumbering creatures with long snouts that could spear him easily like a bit of meat on a stick.

The man doesn’t look like he buys it. He chuckles condescendingly, but miraculously steps aside.

“Good luck.” He says, in a tone that Link doesn’t like at _all._

Link walks past him quickly, then, when he’s a good enough distance away on the land, he turns around and sticks his tongue out at the man with a glare to relieve some of his frustration and anxiety.

The man had been watching him go, and he yells in indignation at the slight, but Link sprints away before the words can meet his ears.

He continues sprinting over another small bridge and up the side of the river until the rocks begin to crowd in around him, then he slows. The rocks of the path look slippery and wet, even the ones that are out of the water, and the water rushes by too quickly for Link to escape unscathed if he were to fall in.

It takes a little more walking before he begins to notice a change in the nature around him. There are pink and blue bushes, growing like any other normal plant, but they wouldn’t look out of place if they were amongst coral in a beautiful reef in the ocean. Link experimentally touches one, and finds the branch he holds rubbery and pliant to the touch. They really _are_ almost like something from the ocean, and the deep blue rocks that look watery in a beautiful way that surround the plants perfect the image.

Oh!

Link turns to stare at the blue rocks that stretch down the path and upwards into the mountain, grinning a bit as he remembers the old woman’s words. If blue rocks mark the Zora Domain, then the sight of them means that his journey is almost at its end.

He continues the climb up the slippery path, energy returned to him by determination, keeping his eyes on the stones beneath his feet. The bridges have transformed from cracking old wood to ornate, beautiful things, with pillars embedded with panels of glowing stones. Small path markers made from the same stone line the riverside, and Link follows them, excited and distracted by their glow, increasing in speed the more traces of the Zora he sees in the land around him.

He’s moving so fast that he forgets the dangers around him, and it’s so easy to be knocked off one’s feet when distracted.

Link doesn’t see the monster until he’s been knocked down and thrown into the cliff-face by the blow. The camouflage that had been disguising it falls away, dripping off of the lizard-like monster’s scales like how the rain that begins to fall drips from the rocks around them.

It snickers at Link’s fallen form, clicking its long curled tongue in the back of its throat as it approaches. Link stares at the monster through his wet and messy bangs, refusing to let it out of his sight even as his vision blurs around him as if he’s being spun in circles. He pushes at the ground with his hands, slipping on his first attempt to right himself, panic making his hands shake. His head is throbbing, and blood has already begun to drip down the side of his face from a cut on his forehead he’d gotten when skidding across the ground.

The lizard-like monster manages to get close enough that when Link finally stands, he cannot completely dodge its blade when it lashes out with its sword.

It cuts into his leg and sends Link staggering with a bitten back cry of pain. He almost falls to the ground again, but manages to keep standing. Blood immediately gushes from the deep wound, staining his pants and the cuff of his boot as the rain carries it down, but Link has no time to tend to it.

The monster is slithering up to him again, moving rapidly, leaving him no moment of rest.

In desperation, with no other weapon, Link picks up a rock. When the monster tries to clumsily swing at him again, he lets instinct guide his timing, and tosses the rock at the thing’s pointed head with all his might.

The rock hits the monster between the eyes, pinging off its horn and stunning it so thoroughly that its hands slacken and the sword drops to the ground.

Link doesn’t waste the opportunity. He makes a grab for it, and picks up the worn down sword that the monster had been swinging at him, the sword that had cut him deeply across the leg.

He picks up that sword, and it feels hot against his palms, its handle at home in his grip.

The next time the monster rushes at him, Link strikes.

It feels as natural as breathing. The sword slides into a scaly shoulder, cutting the arm down to the bone in a powerful swipe that Link easily pulls back from. The monster lets out a reptilian screech and is knocked sideways by the blow, its momentum from rushing so quickly throwing it into a wet boulder that borders the edge of the river.  

Link points the sword at it again, legs bent and shoulders squared. He’s still bleeding, but Link no longer feels it as adrenaline pumps through his veins and is a heavy drum in his ears. His wound has taken back seat to defeating the threat that hisses menacingly before him.

The lizard-like monster doesn’t try to rush him again, but it does hop around, trying to disorient him. Link stands his ground and keeps the blade focused as best he can on the moving target, waiting… waiting…

It lunges towards him, claws extended, mouth open wide, thinking it has the element of surprise, and Link drives the sword through its stomach before its claws meet him.

Link doesn’t pull the sword back until the monster stops moving. It doesn’t slide out cleanly, its chipped edges bringing blood with it when Link jerks it free and then drops the monster’s body to the ground. The adrenaline that had had his heart pounding calms, the thud in his ears fades, and everything after that drops away until all Link can do is stand there and stare and register what he’s just done.

For some reason the fact that he’d killed the monster doesn’t cause an extreme reaction. It doesn’t feel unusual or like anything he hadn’t done in the past before. That feeling of normalcy and the comfortable way the sword sits in his hands, as if every day before he’d lost his memories he’d been fighting, _that’s_ what Link reacts to, that’s what sets him on edge and makes the hand that still holds the sword shake. He very nearly drops it to the ground, but fights to keep his grip strong around its handle.

This monster may not be the last he encounters. He can’t let go because he’ll need this sword again, Link knows he will.

Although it’s a struggle in the rain and with the monster being so much larger than him, he searches the body. The monster had had a rough looking scabbard of patched together leather pieces hanging on its back, and Link unclips it from the blood-soaked belt so he can fit it to his own much cleaner belt. The sword doesn’t fit comfortably inside, but the scabbard still does its job. He wasn’t prepared for monsters before, and he still isn’t really, but now he’s at least got a weapon.

Other than that, there’s nothing else of significance for Link to take from the corpse. He doesn’t know what to do with it, so he leaves it there in the path, vowing to tell someone in the Zora Domain about it when he gets there so that they can take care of it.

The Zora Domain is nearby. Link can see ahead of him a long final stretch of rock path that goes over water and smoothly transitions into the longest glowing blue bridge he’s seen so far.

He just has to get there.

One step forward shows him that that isn’t going to be an easy task anymore. Link had forgotten about the deep wound on his leg, and it reminds him of its presence with a sharp bolt of pain, shot as if from a bow directly to his core.

Link stumbles, his leg giving out beneath him against his wishes, and he curses the monster for getting him in the _leg_ of all places. He grits his teeth against the pain and drags his leg back up, doing his best to walk and limp his way down the path as quickly as he can until he reaches the bridge. It’s a distance that would’ve been easy at the speed he’d been going before the monster had struck him, but now it feels like it takes twenty years. As soon as he can, Link reaches out to steady himself against the railing that stretches down either side of the bridge. His wounded leg shakes from overexertion as he continues on, and blood continues to drip from his hairline into his eyes.

To think he’d be attacked when _so close_ to his destination. Link can see the heart of the Zora Domain just ahead of him. The curling stairway bridges and the tall glowing pillars loom up high, far from the dark water below, surrounded by gentle mist and rushing waterfalls on all sides. A large fish sits atop the crown of the domain like a jewel, its mouth open wide, its tail fanned out as a beautiful example of Zora architecture.

Link wishes he could appreciate this sight more. He’s sure that walking into the Zora Domain must be quite the awe-inspiring experience when one isn’t bleeding heavily and struggling to stand.

He feels bad for getting blood all over this nice bridge, even though the rain is washing most of it away.

The guards at the end of the bridge have noticed Link by now. They approach, cautiously slow, weapons held at the ready as if Link is a malicious Bokoblin rather than a hurt Hylian.

“Who goes there?” One of the Zora calls, voice feminine, professional, and intimidating, right as the other Zora on her right completely drops his weapon and shouts, “Link?”

The Zora _runs_ up to Link, but skids to an abrupt stop, as if jerked by a magnet, right before reaching him. His large webbed hands hover awkwardly as if he doesn’t know what to do first: scoop Link up into a hug or stop the bleeding of Link’s wound. “I can’t believe it- is it actually you?”

Link gives up on walking and slumps against the railing of the bridge, boneless and a bit shocked at the appearance of these shark-like people. He continues to keep himself upright with one arm, and with his free hand he signs _‘You know me?’_ to the Zora.

The female Zora stands to the side, watching their exchange with a confused expression, empty of recognition or any sign that she understood Link’s signs. She looks far younger in comparison to the larger male Zora she stands beside, who’s scarred face stretches in a laugh that’s on the edge of breathless disbelief and amazement. He nods, understanding what Link had said. “Yes, yes of course I know you. It’s me, Rivan. We used to swim together when we were younger.” He finally decides what to do with his hands, wrapping his arms around Link and helping him to stand from under the arms. The female Zora has decided to take up position guarding them both, glaring out through the rain to the path beyond the bridge where more monsters may be lurking. “You know, Princess Mipha said you’d be back, but I don’t think I really understood what that _meant_ until seeing you just now.”

_Princess… Mipha is a Princess..._

Link doesn't really know what to do with that information right now, so he pushes it aside to be acknowledged later, and jumps on the mention of Mipha to sign, _‘Need to talk to M-I-P-H-A.’_ It’s a bit of a struggle, as Rivan keeps a strong grip on one of his arms to help him walk, but he manages to get the message across.

“Yes, of course! You need that wound healed, anyways.” Rivan says. He grins a smile full of sharp shark teeth down at Link. Link has a feeling that this definitely isn’t the last of the sharky smiles he’ll be seeing while in the Zora Domain.

“Let’s get you to Mipha, old friend.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i hadnt planned on writing out link's entire journey, but i ended up writing a large chunk of it anyways... oof.  
> ghoststrawberries. tumblr. com/post/170019293357/ here's the way he went.
> 
> next chapter is the mipha and link reunion and then we can get into the Really Sad Stuff >:)
> 
> also! thanks so much for all the comments and kudos so far! the support is really great. im glad you all are so interested in this fic it really fuels me


	4. Chapter 4

It couldn’t be as easy as just taking him directly to Mipha, of course. In all the short days that Link had been awake, he was beginning to learn that nothing was ever going to just _be easy._

Rivan leaves with a promise to “Inform the King, princess, and prince of his arrival.” and Link is dumped in what looks like an infirmary room to wait. He’s not entirely sure if it _is_ one though, as it’s a small space, and relatively clean and empty. There are only two beds, both bulging full of water and squishy to the touch, and a single pool of water set into the floor. The rest of the room space is occupied by Zora-crafted medical supplies and tools; instruments made of sleek blue-silver metal and laid out neatly on small shelves and tables.

Link sits on the edge of one of the two waterbeds, the one that he’s claimed for himself, and holds one hand against the wound on his leg. His other hand is occupied with the important job of wiping the blood from his forehead away from his eye so that he can better squint around at the walls for any trick switches or trap doors. There’s no possible way that this tiny room is the hospital for the _entire_ Zora Domain, unless the population of the domain is far less than what Link had been envisioning in his mind during his traveling.

He’s halfway through filling the small hospital room with a _massive_ imagined army of shark people that all look exactly like Rivan, comically squishing them into every corner, when there’s a commotion from outside.

“Let me _through_ Muzu-”

“We don’t kn-”

There are no doors in the Zora domain, so Link is easily able to lean on the bed - as far as his injury will allow before it begins to throb - and peer out through the archway to try and eavesdrop on what’s going on. He can _almost_ see a cluster of Zora making their way towards him, but there are some pillars and walls that still obstruct his view no matter what angle he leans at, and they make it hard to tell just how many Zora there are.

“Sidon-!”

As the group turns into the room, the first Zora to make it to Link is also probably the largest of them all. He’s huge, nearly filling the archway, colored bright red and adorned with finely crafted jewelry and, oddly, a cravat, even though he wears no shirt.

He looks every inch like Link imagines a royal Zora would look, dressed regally and positively oozing with royal confidence. So this, Link concludes, even as he wonders over the mystery of why a fish would wear a cravat, must be the Zora prince.

The prince smiles at him; a wide and genuine smile full of _very_ sharp white teeth. Link almost can hear them sparkle.

“So _you’re_ the amazing Hylian Champion my sister has told me so much about!” The prince says, his voice booming with warmth. He steps forward and leans down, bending over Link, and takes one of Link’s bloodstained hands in his. Either he doesn’t care about the blood or hasn’t noticed it, but either way Link is quietly mortified at the mess he’s getting on the prince’s palms. His very large palms.

Link stares at their hands for a moment, eyes wide and mouth agape. A single one of the Zora prince’s hands completely swallows Link’s own up to his wrist.

“I’m Sidon, Prince of the Zora, and I-”

Sidon is interrupted, as another Zora pushes her way around him, forcing Sidon to break away from the enthusiastic handshake, “Sidon please! Don’t overwhelm him!” this Zora says.

And her voice...

It’s high and concerned, yet there’s something about it… Somehow, it cuts through the haze of Link’s forgotten memories to sound _painfully_ familiar to his ears.  

Link’s chest is tight as the Zora turns to face him. She’s just as tall as Sidon and of the same red color, but her figure is slimmer, and her fins more elaborate in their curves and the frills of them.

Yet her face, framed by the same style of delicate royal jewelry, is still as soft and warm as it had been the last time Link had seen her.

“... Mipha?” Link whispers.

Mipha’s expression is frozen for a brief moment in an attempt to hold herself together, before it crumbles and falls into emotion like a weak stone wall falling into water, “You’re here.” She says, words trembling just a bit.

Then she notices his wounds.

The moment of reunion shatters as Mipha urgently goes down to her knees before Link’s legs, crying “You’re _hurt!_ ” when she touches the gash worriedly. “Oh I knew I should’ve found a better way to get you here from the plateau than to just leave the slate with you. The land has been safer as of late but I should’ve known that trouble would find you.”

Link, overwhelmed by the emotional whiplash, takes a dazed moment to himself before he tries to tell Mipha that it’s not her fault. She’s too focused on examining his leg and won’t look up to see his signs, but the pain of the pressure she’s putting against his skin is making Link’s hands shake anyways. He gives up and leans backwards, holding himself so that he can extend his leg just a bit, to make it easier for Mipha.

“Alright… this wound isn’t as bad as it could’ve been. It _is_ worrisome that it’s been bleeding for awhile, but that can’t be helped.” She tilts her head and meets Link’s eyes, and Link freezes. One of Mipha’s hands reaches up to tenderly brush aside the blood-matted hair over his eyes, “And this cut looks easy to heal as well.”

The pads of her fingers, leathery but warm, press against the cut on his head, while Mipha’s other hand presses down on and completely covers his leg wound. Link holds as still as a statue, feeling very much like if he moved he’d get a disappointed glance from Mipha, and he’s pretty sure that something like that might be fatal.

Cool blue light begins to radiate from where Mipha is in contact with Link. Slowly, it oozes and drips around Link’s body, picking and pulling at his skin, trying to find what needs to be fixed, “I told you that I’d always heal and protect you.” She says with a soft, comforting smile, while her healing power finally gets a good grip and begins to knit Link’s cut flesh back together. With Mipha’s hand still in the way Link can’t see it happening, but he can feel the gentle heat as the magic works. “That won’t ever change.”

The experience is _incredible._

After a heavy moment, Mipha moves away, revealing smooth skin with barely a scar left behind. Link, his eyes round with wonder, runs his fingers over his leg, finding no ache or pain left behind. His forehead is the same, now completely without a scratch on it, as if his tumble across the ground had never happened. Even the bruises that had been on his cheekbone and knees from his fall from the paraglider have faded away under the powerful embrace of Mipha’s healing ability.

 _‘THANK YOU! AMAZING!’_ Link signs to Mipha, grinning. Now he won’t have to limp agonizingly slowly all over the domain or have to change any bandages.

Mipha’s reaction doesn’t match up to Link’s though. She looks surprised at first, and then confused, rather than happy. Something like suspicion mixed with a dash of fear crests in her eyes, and she reaches out to Link slowly, almost unconsciously, both suddenly desperate to grab a hold of him but also afraid that if she touches him he’ll be gone.

“Link… tell me something,” Mipha begins, almost hesitantly, as if unsure whether she really wants to ask or not. Link nods, but Mipha has paused to get her thoughts together.

She turns around unexpectedly, to address the others who are still gathered there with them, and Link is abruptly jerked back to the reality that he and Mipha are not alone in the room.

Over Mipha’s head he can see Sidon standing there, and by Sidon’s side lurks a hunched older Zora who looks to be a type of ray rather than a shark. Dutifully behind them wait two members of the guard - neither of them Rivan - with long tridents in their hands that have sharp, clean points that make Link feel a bit uneasy.

He’s made even _more_ uneasy by the glare the older ray Zora is leveling at him. It feels as if the Zora is accusing Link of being a murderer of baby birds using just the distrust in his eyes.

“Leave us, please.” Mipha says to everyone.

The ray Zora immediately begins to protest. Which somehow doesn’t surprise Link in the least. “Princess, we have no idea if this _Hylian_ is really who he says he is.”

The way the old Zora says the word _Hylian_ is comparable to the way someone would scornfully say “rat” or “snake.” Link scrunches up his nose at the insulting tone, and over Mipha’s shoulder while she isn’t looking at him he makes a rude face at the old Zora in revenge.

As the old Zora splutters, Mipha very firmly says, “ _I_ know who he is, and you trust _me_ , don’t you Muzu?”

That brings Muzu to a halt. He stumbles a bit on his words, trying to gather his thoughts enough to argue back against his Princess. Mipha doesn’t give him a chance, “Please go.”

Sidon takes his sister’s order to heart. He dutifully takes the arm of Muzu and pulls, leading the older Zora to turn around and follow the two guards out of the room. Muzu still looks cross, like he has things to say to try and win the fight, but he wisely cuts his words short and frowns grumpily the whole way out.

When they are finally alone, Mipha lets out a heavy breath, then faces Link again.

She looks into Links eyes now as if searching, “Do you… do you remember me?”

The only thing Link can do is tell the truth… but he has a feeling that the truth isn’t what Mipha will want to hear. There’s no easy way to tell someone that you’ve forgotten almost everything about them, just like there’s no easy way to pull an arrow from a wound.

He takes a minute to decide on whether he should just answer with “No” or if he should try and soften the blow by saying “a little bit,” but the silence coming from him is all the answer that Mipha needs, and she takes the decision out of his hands.

For a moment, devastation distorts her expression. She leans more urgently into Link’s space, “Do you remember anything? Anyone?” She asks, desperate.

Link bites his lip and looks upwards, unable to take the look on Mipha’s face, and thinks of the spotty memories he holds. His silence, again, is his answer.

Mipha freezes and then slowly draws away from Link. A moment, as if in mourning, is taken, in which she shuts her eyes, bows her head, and struggles quietly with herself to get breath and life moving through her body once again. Later, when Link is asleep, she can take a private moment to herself, but right now Link is _finally_ with her. Memories or no memories, he’s _alive_.

Gently, Mipha puts her hands on either side of Link’s face and tilts it back down, then she waits until his eyes focus on her. “It’ll be alright.” She says, in the quiet space she’s built between her arms, trying not to let her voice shake. “I don’t know why you don’t have any memories, but Zelda told me this might happen. I’ll help you in every way I can to try to regain them. I’m sure you read my letter - like it says, I still have much to give you and tell you, and that will not change. You’re still my friend.”

The words let loose a sharp twinge of feeling in Link’s chest. Hesitantly he leans forward, face still in Mipha’s grip. She lets his head and hair slide through her hands until he has slipped from the waterbed to the ground and has his arms wrapped around Mipha’s middle. In return, her arms comfortingly wrap around him.

She’s so much larger than him, eclipsing him in every way. It’d be daunting if Link didn’t already, inexplicably, trust her with his life.

* * *

The Zora Domain that towers above the water, beautiful and glowing, is, Link learns, just a front.

“We have more below the water.” Mipha explains, as she leads him to an inn with soft waterbeds for him to sleep on, “Most Zora prefer to stay down there. What we’ve built up here is mainly for tourism, trade, and politics.” The entire time they’re walking, the short distance from the small infirmary to the beds where Link will be able to finally get a good night’s rest, Mipha glances back at him intermittently. As if checking that he’s still there.

They pass by the center of the Domain, just below the upper level where the king’s throne room sits, nestled under the mouth of that large fish that Link had seen when coming in. There’s a statue here, one that Link can’t help but to pause and stare at.

Mipha, when she notices why Link has stopped, blushes intensely. “Oh, yes, uhm, well I couldn’t dissuade father from having this made and put up.” She looks upset that she’s so flustered, like she’d spent a long time schooling herself into keeping calm and has just blown years of work away like leaves in a strong breeze, “I can explain to you what it’s for- later, at least. I think you should rest first before we start to talk about… everything.”

“It’s you.” Link says, as if that’s all the explanation the statue needs for its existence.

It is indeed Mipha, a stunningly well-crafted likeness of her, holding a long trident with curved points and inset jewels. She looks younger than the Mipha that stands beside Link now, her body smaller, somehow frailer.

But the position she strikes; holding her trident gently, but with her body curved powerfully against the side of a large elephant-like beast, shatters any perception of frailness. This is a princess who protects and is loved by her people.

Mipha’s gaze softens, the embarrassment fading from her cheeks. She looks upon the statue, and her tone shifts from nervousness to longing, brought out by remembrance.

“Yes, me and Ruta,” Mipha says softly.

She beckons for Link to follow her again, and Link does. But the name _Ruta_ rings in his head like a bell with every step away from the statue he takes.

“Who is Ruta?” Link asks.

Mipha doesn’t turn to look back at him when she answers, “A dear friend, who I miss very much.”

They exchange no more words until they reach the inn, and Mipha reluctantly leaves Link with a bid of, “Good night, I hope you sleep well.”

She lingers in the doorway for a beat longer than is necessary, but Link understands.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry this took awhile everyone! school completely attacked me with work so ive been pretty busy. every chapter will probably take awhile from this point on while i try to fit in writing time around schoolwork and classes. thank u all for being so patient! 
> 
> and another thank you again to my wonderful friend cake who betas this fic for me! she catches all the words i repeat 40000 times and tells me to change them up, and helps me catch good emotional stuff ive missed too. <3


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